


Heart of Darkness

by BeesAreAwesome



Series: And this is what the devil does [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Crime Scenes, Dreams and Nightmares, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gay Chicken, I aint no fan of happy endings, M/M, Religious Cults, angels and demons are real, because Cas has messed up dreams, occult murders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesAreAwesome/pseuds/BeesAreAwesome
Summary: Cas and Dean are US Marshals investigating a series of occult murders along the US/Mexico border. Reality is not what it seems...





	1. Serial murders with a side of gay chicken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fairly new to writing fics and have no beta, so bear with me on any mistakes. I will add tags and archive warnings as needed as I go along, and based on what's in my head, the rating will probably change to explicit at some point... and probably lots of trigger warnings will pop up, so keep an eye out if you continue on this journey with me. I want this fic to be pretty dark, so the levity of the intro won't be standard. Destiel, but not as a lovey love barf romance. You'll see.
> 
> Since I'm a newb at this, let me know how I'm doing! Your comments will surely fuel my fire to keep writing this.

Castiel scratched at his mop of unruly black hair in frustration. DNA profiling was a painstakingly slow process. There had been a dozen more murders since the first, nearly two months ago, and the initial DNA reports had yet to make it back to the marshals office. If ever there was a time to light a fire under someones ass, it would be now. Castiel knew better than to try and call in favors, all it would do is potentially get the lab technicians fired for playing favorites. However, now that this was looking like the work of a serial killer (or more likely a group of killers), perhaps their case would be bumped to the top of the queue. Sighing, Castiel started typing out a priority notice for the latest batch of DNA evidence.

As a US Marshal, Cas was used to chasing fugitives across the border, or hunting down foreign criminals who had managed their way into the US. Not that he had never been part of a crime scene investigative team, but it was uncommon for him. More often than not, he was tasked with witness protection or babysitting criminals waiting on their trials. Their office was a whore to the court system, typically seeing the nightmare of paperwork rather than the thrill of action. But as this current case was turning into an international affair, the Marshals were brought in to help with border diplomacy. When the crime scenes were called in on the Mexican side of the fence, Cas and his team were there to deal with the local policia and make sure special care was taken in documenting all aspects of the scene.

The murders had so far all been religious in nature, often mocking the holy trinity in varying degrees. The first one found a young American frat boy who had a week prior gone missing on a trip to TJ with his friends. According to witnesses, shot after shot of tequila had been thrown back, the boys insulting the locals and making a condescending show of their money, earning them the disfavor of the other bar patrons. Travis Mitchell had soon left his friends to solicit fellatio from a prostitute, never to return. He was found May 23rd in an abandoned church just inside the US border, nailed to an inverted cross and completely exsanguinated. Cas had only seen photographs of the first several crime scenes. After the fifth, his office was informed of bodies that had been found in Mexico in similar religious poses, the victims having been found throughout border towns across Baja, Sonora, and Chihuahua. And that's how Cas found himself holed up in a cheap motel in Nogales, partnered with his long time friend, Dean, awaiting to be called to the next crime scene.

As Cas hit the send botton on his email inquiring on DNA results, Dean came crashing through the door, 12 pack of Corona in hand. TA-DA!!! Cas squinted his eyes in mock disgust.

"Of course you got us bong water." Cas chided Dean with a sigh and motioned with his hand for Dean to pass one over. Dean grinned and obliged, popping his own open with a lighter.

They clinked bottles and swallowed down the first round in 5 seconds flat. It was their way. Dean had early on in their friendship convinced Cas that it was the proper way to drink beer. "The first round gets chugged to make the beer hit your brain faster," he had explained with a wise and knowing expression on his face. Cas never consumed much alcohol before he met Dean, but had fun with the ritual anyway, so he always tried to keep up with the first couple rounds.

"So, what's the plan? Any more news on the latest vic?"

Cas shook his head. "Nothing since this morning. Lita Piper, 23, from Ypsilanti. The tox came back positive for the same sedatives as the other vics. But still no word about the origins of the DNA found at the scenes. I just filed a request for priority, though I suspect someone at the FBI has already gotten that info and has just chosen to keep us in the dark. Assheads. So, i guess it's just sit and wait til someone else dies so we can go catalog shit for those inept, suit wearing pricks."

Dean laughed. "Like the feds would actually let us be useful... Sooooo, in the spirit of being useless. Titty bar?"

Cas rolled his eyes, but ultimately acquiesced. "Fine, but if you pick up another cheap hooker, you're paying for the spare room this time."

"Cheap? I'm hurt, Cas. I have standards. It's you I really want." Dean clasped Cas on the shoulder and gave a pat that any bro would have approved of. 

"Right. How's that herpe-gono-siphil-itis clearing up, then?"

"fuck off, you know you want this." Dean motioned up and down his body with his half empty beer bottle.

"Sure, but not enough to itch for a month afterwards."

"Oof, you win this round, Cas." Dean had a goofy grin on his face.

Cas squinted again. "You're up to something."

Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Always."

 ---

Dean's brilliant idea was to get Cas laid for a change. It almost worked, but Castiel took one look at the track marks up the girl's arms and decided it would be in poor taste. Unlike Dean, he actually did have standards. Even if that had put him in a 6 month dry spell with nothing but hot showers and an active imagination to hold him over. Dean ended up banging the girl in the alley behind the club at the end of the night while Castiel paid the tab. Classy guy, that one. Why were they friends, again?

Cas started the short walk back to the motel room, Dean catching him up about halfway there, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder.

"Cas, hv I tol ya yer awes'm."

Dean was obviously plastered out of his gourd. Cas was about to tell him so and that he should be a little more careful about the ladies he kept company with, but all that came out was, "Drunk... You. Ssssex good, K?" Voice cracking at the end. Hmmm, Cas might have to reconsider his own faculties before handing out any advise this evening. Instead of continuing with words that didn't work, he wrapped his arm around Dean's waist as they walked and repeated, "K?" while giving him a small shake.

"Nah. Ths shit gets boring, ya know? Le's do somethin fun."

They had reached the motel and Cas stumbled with the key card for several minutes before the door finally gave way and they both stumbled inside, barely catching themselves from tripping over each other. Dean had been yammering on about "fun" the whole time but Cas couldn't recall any exact words.

"What's fun?" Cas blinked at Dean as he kicked off his shoes and started fumbling at the buttons on his shirt.

"This!" Dean motioned his hands between himself and Cas, swaying as he did so. "I'm sserious, Cas. You hear me?" Dean turned his back to open the mini fridge, procuring a couple of chilled beers.

"Oh, no. How are we gonna wake up?" Despite the protest, Cas grabbed the bottle offered to him and popped open the cap on the side of the dresser, partly amazed that he didn't break the damn thing. The amazement must have shown up on his face, because Dean was suddenly in his personal space and declaring most solemnly, "Yer a goddamn superhero. You c'n do anythin, ya know?

Cas completely lost track of the sappy beer filled heart-to-heart Dean was determined to have after that. They had only two each before they left, leaving quite a few to polish off. Which, of course, they did. It was by no means the first time they had drank enough for Cas to black out. Dean always claimed he did too, but the knowing smirk on his face always gave the lie. Cas always hoped he never made too big an ass of himself, but considering Dean was still his friend and still wanted to drink with him (fucking constantly, it seemed) he was not too self conscious about what he did or said when he was unawares. 

\---

The following morning, however, turned out to be an awkward affair. 

Cas woke up with a heavy sensation in his chest. Something was resting between his thighs and another something was jabbing him in the hip. Bleary eyes blinking into the morning gloom found Dean sprawled across his torso, drooling lightly onto his chest. It wasn't the first time Dean passed out on or near him, but it was the first time he woke up with neither of them wearing clothes in this position. Granted, yes, there were still boxers attached to his lower half, and Dean's thank god, but that thing digging into his hip was definitely morning wood. And not his own. Shit. awkward...

Dean groaned and shifted his body, the leg between Cas' thighs rubbing against his groin. Cas stifled a moan at the friction, realizing he had morning wood of his own. Shit, not good. Cas placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, shaking him gently. 

"Dean, wake up..." Another tender shake to his friend's body.

Dean finally shifted his head enough to glance up at Cas with bleary green eyes. "Whassit?"

"Dean, did... Did we, you know? Do anything?"

Dean immediately perked up and smiled widely. "God, Cas. You were amazing. We should have done this a long time ago." At that a hand slid down his torso and slipped into the waste band of his boxers, gripping tight. Not too tight, but just right. Cas threw his head back and moaned.

"You like that?"

"Fuck yes... No! I mean, shit. Stop, what are we doing?"

Dean lifted himself up enough to slide himself fully between Cas' legs. "Embracing the darkness." As he said the words, Dean's eyes clouded over to an inky black, a demonic grin on his lips. And then those lips were crashing into Castiel's in a frenzy of tongue and teeth and blood.

"Shit!" Cas gasped as his eyes snapped open. He was alone on his bed, clad only in his boxers and still not knowing when that state of undress happened. But he was alone, so that's what mattered. The shower was running and the room was empty, so Cas figured he'd have a moment to collect himself before having to face Dean. What the hell was wrong with him dreaming about his best friend like that? "Uuuggh!" The morning wood was still there, taunting him. And images of Dean reaching down and grasping him flooded his mind. Shit! He hadn't realized he had taken hold of himself until he heard the shower turn of and panic flooded his brain. Cas scrambled with the sheets to hide the evidence of his physical state. 

Moments later, Dean emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, dripping water running down his body from his hair. Cas squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand across his face. No no no no no. No looking, stupid fuck, not good.

"Cas, you look like shit!" Dean laughed as he rummaged through his duffel bag for clean clothes, pulling out jeans and a black t-shirt. Yesterday's flannel would do. 

"Weird dreams. I need a cold shower." Cas looked over at Dean's neatly made bed and glared.

"Wait, since when do you make your bed in the morning?"

Dean flushed as he fished out a rolled pair of socks and his toothbrush from his bag.

"Well, eh, I guess I don't. I didn't. I mean, I didn't sleep there."

Cass groaned and covered his face with his hands. "No more gay chicken when we're drunk."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Angel and the Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know at any time in this fic if anyone feels like the rating should change or more tags are needed! Thanks!

Thank fuck Cas' phone didn't ring until the following day. He managed to keep himself hidden under the sheets for the majority of his hangover, only getting out of bed to piss, eat, and shower. Dean had graciously left the room for the day, claiming he was going out to meet a nice young senorita, but Cas suspected the other man sensed his discomfort, and rather than asking questions, he politely detached himself for the day to give Cas some piece of mind. Cas was certainly grateful for the alone time. 20 hours of sleep was amazing, though he found himself frequently waking from a similar dream of Dean with black demon eyes hovering over his prone body, licking stripes across his neck and grinding into him. And Dean would always say, "Embracing the darkness" whenever Cas opened his mouth to question what they were doing.

The phone call came at 5am the following morning, interrupting the latest fucked up dream for good. Despite waking repeatedly, Cas felt amazingly refreshed, if not a bit flustered and frustrated. The call was from Bobby, a curmudgeon with a heart of gold. And also his boss. "Rise and shine, idjits! Got another cold one out your way." A call had come late last night to the Ministerio Público about strange sounds coming from one of the isolated homes outside of Cananea. That strange sound turned out to be a chainsaw connecting with human flesh. Strong religious overtones were reported, so it didn't take long for it to get back to the Marshals. And now Cas was scrambling out of bed at 5am getting ready to look at a freshly dismembered corpse. Awesome.

Cananea was northern Sonora, so that was his and Dean's turf. Bobby was camped out near the Tijuana border with Rufus, the other old curmudgeon on their team, and the third leg of the outfit was holed up at the Ciudad Jarez/El Paso border. That belonged to Jo and Ash, both incredibly young for the marshals service, but both a complete ace in their own ways.

Cas took a few minutes of time to prepare a thermos of coffee for Dean, as he was certain that wherever he spent the night wasn't a place he could brew himself a pot. He took a few sips, then screwed the cap on tight, and replaced the makeshift cup over the cap. Cas tossed the thermos and a handful of bottled water into a cooler, then loaded himself into his truck.

The drive was great. It cleared his mind of the strange dreams and what he was about to encounter, got his brain into a place of calm happiness. The cracked land and wind-worn rock formations were a thing of pure majesty.

The rain had been light this year, so the Sonoran was particularly hot and lacking in the usual vibrant blooms typical of the summer. Even so, It wasn’t a full on drought yet, so the diverse flora still clung desperately to life in small clusters. Despite many calling it a post-apocalyptic no-man’s land, Castiel still found the beauty in the scenery. The wind picked up momentarily, howling past his open window, giving a brief cooling respite. As he drove down the desolate dirt road leading further from civilization, a dust devil sprung to life on the horizon and Cas smiled. Yep, always a sight.

Dean was one of those aforementioned naysayers, always complaining about the heat and how the scenery was lackluster, never changing. Being ever the contrarian, Cas had taken to snapping photos of the landscape when something particularly spectacular popped out at him, just to show Dean the greatness surrounding them. This morning was no exception.  Since he was called out to the scene at the crack of dawn, Cas took the opportunity to capture the early morning sun rising over a patch of particularly lush cacti. The sparse rain must have lingered over this particular patch of land a bit longer than the rest. It was more reminiscent of what summer blooms should really look like. 

                                                                                                                    

It was already getting hot in his truck, though the sun was barely over the horizon yet. Cas turned on the radio to try and catch a weather report while he was still a couple miles out. 

_Looks like another scorcher today, folks!  Keeping in stride with the rest of the week, we've got ourselves another forecast record high today, temperatures are expected to reach 119 degrees by 2pm. It's been advised to stay indoors, but If you have to go out, remember to bring lots of water. Be safe, folks! Now on our playlist for hot hot summer days, here's another classic from Zeppelin, written about a journey through the Moroccan desert.  dududun dududun "Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face..."_

Cas grinned and cranked up the radio. He could see the rundown building off in the distance, no more than a mile up the road now, and what looked like a black Impala parked off to the side, a silhouette of a man leaning lazily against the door. Good, Dean actually got his ass out of bed. And apparently had stayed a hell of a lot closer than their motel to have beat him here. As Cas pulled up next to Dean's car, drumming his hands along to Kashmir, green eyes lifted to meet his own, a shit eating grin splitting his face.

Dean sauntered over to Castiels truck and opened the drivers side door for him as he cut the ignition and held a hand out to him to help him down like he was some goddamn princess or crippled old lady. Cas squinted at him and gave him a look that read, "It's too early for this shit." But Dean just lifted his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers at him. Fine, two can play at that game. Cas hauled the thermos of coffee into his hand then gave him a shove so he could hop out of the pick-up. Dean's eyes sparkled at the coffee now in his hands and made short work of the remaining liquid.

"Thanks Cas, you're a life saver."

Cas smirked in response.

"You been in yet?" The shack of a house had been roped off by the local policia, but it looked like no one had been there in hours. Hopefully the crime scene was still intact.

"Nope, only been here a couple of minutes. Was waiting for you."

Cas was eager to get this over with. It was only 6:15 and it was already well over 90 degrees. The stench would probably be unbearable. He took some Vick's Vaporub out of his travel kit and applied a generous amount under his nose and tossed the jar to Dean.

"Good call." After doing the same, Dean replaced the jar into Cas' travel bag, then walked into the house with Cas by his side. "Let's do this thing."

 ---

 The living room and kitchen of the rundown shack looked well lived in, but not unclean. Whoever lived here had tried to keep the place well put together, despite not having the funds for renovations. There were no obvious signs of a break in, no broken windows, no foot prints leading in or out of the house. With nothing much to document here, Castiel braced himself and moved to the bedroom door. Dean was out walking the perimeter, looking for any evidence that may have been dropped by the killer on their way out, leaving Cas to investigate the interior on his own. He was fine with that. Dean didn't have a strong stomach and on more than one occasion came close to sullying the crime scene with the sudden urge to vomit.

The scene within took Cas' breath away. And not in a good way. Despite the Vick's under his nose, the smell of rotting meat and feces still permeated through the menthol and eucalyptus causing Cas to gag several times before he got his stomach under control. He was suddenly thankful he hadn't eaten a large breakfast. Especially since breathing through his mouth wasn't any better. He could literally taste the viscera on his tongue with each breath. 

The entire room, ceiling to floor and every wall, was covered in a thick coat of blood in varying states of coagulation. In his estimate, there had to be at least 6 humans worth of blood to have pulled this off. It must have been where the blood of the previously exsanguinated bodies had gone to. On top of the blood, each wall had symbols painted in a brown substance, likely excrement, that were dotted with black clouds of flies. In the center of the room was a grotesque parody of Raphael's "Michael vanquishing Satan". The first body was held up by a post, one arm outstretched, gripping a metal rod which had been secured with nylon filament, probably fishing line. The skin of the victims back was flayed open, stretched and secured over wires to create a vision of wings in flight. Maggots spilled from the open mouth, carving out a cavernous, angry maw where parted lips had tongue been eaten away by the hungry larvae. Beneath the angel was a Frankenstein mass of limbs, disembodied then sewn back together. A grasping arm jutted out of an open mouth, a leg sewn in place where that arm should have been. A second head was attached to the shoulder, this one implanted with a pair of impressive horns. A goat perhaps? The faces of both had their eyes replaced with something not human. The orbs were a yellow orange and had horizontal stripes for pupils. Again, Castiel guessed goat. 

                                                                                                                                                               

The entire tableau was impressive, the attention to detail, the time obviously spent recreating the famous masterpiece, the artistic freedom in which the sadistic fuck took to make the whole rendition into a personalized work of art. Cas felt like such an effort would be deserving of a signature. Did Raphael sign his original works? If so, where? Castiel left the room to collect Dean to help set up the camera and to do a quick google search on that question. If there was a signature, Cas wanted to be sure and get a very clear image of it. 

Castiel backed away from the door and turned, running into solid flesh. Dean stood there slack jawed and a bit pale, not seeming to notice that Cas had just stumbled into him. One of the flies landed on his lower lip, snapping him out of his catatonia. Batting the tiny beast away, Dean turned and made an angry growl deep in his throat. "What the fuck is wrong with people, Cas?!"

He had no answer, so rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, gently urging him toward the front of the house. Dean allowed himself to be coaxed away from the grizzly scene, feet numb and stumbling.

 ---

They managed to efficiently document every single aspect of the scene before them, Cas taking detailed photographs while Dean wrote pen and paper descriptions of everything he could think of. About two hours into their work, the PFM (Mexico's version of the FBI) arrived on the scene to do their own investigation. Cas had met several of the agents in the last few weeks and the two organizations seemed to be working well together, at least on the Sonora end of the collaboration. They exchanged notes and another two hours later, Cas and Dean were packing up their things ready to head back to Nogales. As it turned out, Raphael didn't really sign his work in a traditional sense, which bummed Castiel out greatly, but due to his vigilance in capturing every single angle of the scene, he was sure that the expert analysts with the FBI and PFM would uncover anything there was to be found.

The car ride back to Nogales was quiet. Cas didn't feel like listening to the radio and Dean was driving his own car back to the motel, so there was no reason to break the silence. Even the beauty of the desert slid past him, lost in thought as he was. Images of the splayed angel stuck to the forefront of his mind, mouth gaping in a scream of fury, sightless eyes glaring down at the massacred devil beneath him. And in those haunting images, Dean's smirking face kept popping up, eyes black like a demon, whispering in Cas' ear to embrace the darkness.

Castiel stretched his wings wide, for he was the angel, head thrown back as hands slid down his torso.  _Embrace the Darkness._

_"I can't..."_

The demon's plush lips kissed at his neck, tongue darting out to lick over his pulse. Cas' breath hitched and his wings fluttered, threatening to upset his balance. If he fell it would be over.  _Embrace the Darkness._

_"I don't... no, I shouldn't"_

_Fall for me, Cas._ Dean's mouth was suddenly pressed against his in a heated kiss and Cas found himself returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. His clothes melted away and his great, white wings flared out sending the two of them falling back to land in a sticky pool of blood. Cas knew he should be upset by this, disturbed even, but it seemed right to be covered in blood right now. He wouldn't want Dean any other way.  _will you Fall?_

_"I... need to go. There's something I should do."_

But Dean kissed him more fervently, a hand sliding down to grasp and stroke at Cas' stiffening length.  _Don't go. You can't ever leave me, Cas._

Castiel panted and arched his back as the demon moved his lips down to meet his hand. _"Dean! Come with me... I. I can raise you from perdition."_ Castiel raised a blood soaked hand and gripped Dean tight by the shoulder, leaving a perfect scarlet print behind.

Dean lifted his head, pausing in his ministrations to meet castiels eyes with his own demonic black one's.  _Or you could Fall for me, angel._

 A jolt to his pick-up sent Castiel reeling back into reality. Gasping for air, he quickly pulled off the road and idled the vehicle. A quick look in the rear-view mirror showed a dead armadillo, fresh road-kill about 30 feet behind him. 

Fuck! Cas had never had a waking dream like that before and certainly never while driving. It left him in a state of panic, breath coming rapid and uneven. What if he had crashed into another vehicle, or ran over a pedestrian? Shit shit shit... What the hell just happened to his brain? He new driving sometimes put people into trances, but this was above and beyond road zen.

And why the fuck was Dean suddenly starring in all of his dreams? They had been best friends for almost 10 years. Their stupid game of gay chicken had been going on almost as long, and never once had it ever affected Castiel like this. So, why the fuck now, and why the fuck Dean? 

Cas spent another 10 minutes getting his head together and his breathing under enough control that he felt safe enough to drive again.

 ---

Unsurprisingly, Dean was already at the motel when Castiel arrived. He had managed to push all unwanted images out of his mind for the duration of the trip. But now... But now Dean was sitting in front of him, booted feet crossed on top of the small, round table they used for dining. He swallowed a gulp of beer, then licked a stray drop off his plump lower lip. Cas' eyes couldn't help but follow the motion. He was royally fucked.

 


	3. Get your mind outa the gutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding a dub-con tag for the nature of Cas' dreams. And they'll just keep getting weirder...

Several more days passed before Castiel got a call back from the FBI's forensics lab. The suspect DNA found at the crime scenes turned out to be from other missing persons, some of which had already turned up as elaborately displayed corpses. Whoever the killer (or killers) was had been using the blood, fesces, and semen of other victims to paint symbols at the scenes. And considering how much DNA had turned up so far, they were looking at an additional 10 missing persons who hadn't yet turned up. The FBI had scoured their database for hits on any of the possible vics, but only two had turned out to be in the system. One, Julio Valdez, had minor offenses on his record; drunken disorderly and possession of marijuana. The second, Chuck Shurley, had a long history of institutionalization for schizophrenic delusions revolving around religion and the occult, often claiming that he was God Himself. He was high on the list of suspects.

Castiel quickly forwarded the information to the PFM office, along with an email attachment of the latest translation of the symbols. Some of them were still unknown, but the majority turned out to be Enochian script, the angelic language 16th century scholars posited Adam spoke to name the objects he found in Eden. Enochian was a fascinating study, to say the least. It was supposedly a language of great magic and purity. The person, or persons, involved in these murders had a strange sense of irony. Or perhaps they were being humorous, using celestial script to underline the unholy iconography of their tableaus.  

_Odo ciacle qaa zodoreje lape zodiredo noco mada hoathahe Saitan_

"Move therefore and appear! Open the mysteries of your creation; Be friendly unto me For I am the same! The true worshiper of the highest and ineffable king of hell!"

Castiel closed his laptop and sighed. The heat wave was continuing in full force, often keeping Dean and himself holed up in their motel room, boredom starting to get the better of them. There was only so much work either of them could do on the case, seeing that their primary purpose in the investigation was to be the buffer between US and Mexican agencies. So, they found themselves drinking far too much and playing cards, or drinking far too much and keeping a running commentary on the Cinemax movie of the evening. Or drinking far too much and going to the bar. Castiel was starting to feel like a lush. An hour of work any given morning: reading emails, sending out relevant updates, close laptop, crack open beer. 

Dean was already handing over a can of Tecate to Cas as he was wrapping up their morning correspondences. 

"It's 8am, Cas. Shotgun?"

"This is my life, isn't it?" Castiel grabbed the church key off the counter, Dean already holding one in his hand. They both punctured a hole in the side of the can, popped the top, then chugged merrily. 

"Dean, I think this is what people refer to when they mention high functioning alcoholics."

"Nope, alcoholics go to meetings and rehab is for quitters, etcetera, etcetera. Anyway, there's nothing else to do."

"You know, I used to do lots of things before I met you. I just can't recall what they were. You've been a very bad influence, Dean."

"Yeah, but before you met me you were a sheltered virgin who was oblivious to all pop culture references. My influence has made you fun."

Dean handed over another beer and they shotgunned a second round. Cas grimaced around an impressive belch.

"I was not a virgin."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

"Just because I like sex to mean something doesn't mean I hadn't done it."

"You still don't do it!"

"Since April, I like to be a bit more cautious of who I fall into bed with. And that's not true, there have been plenty of women. I'm just more discreet than you."

"Uno mas." Dean tossed Cas another beer.

"April... that the bitch that stabbed you?" 

They cracked open the cans and chugged. 

Cas nodded, then huffed out a small laugh. "You know she liked to tie me up with rope?"

The memory of April binding his arms above his head brought an unwanted vision of Dean with his black demon eyes doing the same thing, licking down his chest and groin then taking him fully into his mouth. God, this was getting out of hand! 

"Are you blushing?! Cas, you kinky bastard, you liked it didn't you?"

"I'm not blushing, it's the beer." Cas grabbed for another to chug down, his back to Dean. He was starting to feel a little tipsy, but that was OK. The drunker he got, the more the dreams and visions were held at bay. He still had them every night, but they seemed less of a threat when he was inebriated. Except for right now. He felt a hand slide around his waist and a hard phallus pressing against his ass. Cas spun around to push Dean off him, but the man was sat at the table, feet up and casually sipping a beer. Words were coming out of his mouth, but Castiel could only hear the ringing in his ears.

"What?"

"I said, speaking of rope... Cas, you alright? You look a little peaked."

"I want you to tie me up."  _What? No. No I don't._

"Huh?" Dean had a startled expression on his face, or maybe more like bewilderment with a touch of awe.

What exactly had Dean said about rope? Cas wished he had heard. He turned and grabbed another can out of the case. How many was this now? He was losing track.  _Fall for me, Cas._ The words whispered across his cheek and he shuddered, heat enveloping him in a warm embrace. Willing his body and mind under control, Cas turned back around to face Dean, a flush still in his cheeks.

"What, you not up for it?" Cas winked.

Dean barked a laugh. "For you? Always."

 ---

They spent the next several hours finishing off their case of beer, Dean leaving briefly to get another case and pick up some chinese take-out. While Dean was out, Cas took the opportunity to rub one out in the shower. He probably should get laid soon, maybe then these images of Dean would leave him be. He was trying his best to act like nothing was bothering him, but it was getting hard. Throughout the morning, Cas continued to feel phantom caresses over his body. A hand on his neck or thigh, soft breath blown into his ear. If this didn't go away on it's own soon, he thought he might have to make an appointment. Cas assumed it was the stress of the case they were working on combined with sexual frustration. But it was freaking Cas out a bit, Dean had always been safe, neutral ground despite the constant flirtations. It was just fun and games and Cas felt like he was betraying his friend by letting his mind take it further. Only, he wasn't letting his mind do anything, it was taking of it's own free will, like there was a disconnect between Cas' thoughts and intentions. 

The shower didn't help. He was tense and flustered as the tepid water hit him. Taking himself in hand he tried to think of anything but Dean, but as he worked himself over, all he could see were black, demonic eyes and plush lips teasing kisses all over his body. And then it was as if Dean were physically in the shower behind him. He felt firm hands grasp his hips, groin grinding against him from behind and teeth biting down on the joint that connected his wings to his shoulder. He arched his back and leaned his cheek against the cold tiles, urging phantom Dean to penetrate. He came with the thought of the demon plowing into him, rapidly and repeatedly, using his wings as leverage to pull him back harder and deeper. Fuck! Cas looked down at the sticky mess in his palm, noting the peculiar, dull throbbing in his ass, then sank down to his knees letting the water wash away his sins as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

 ---

Cas had managed to don a clean pair of boxer briefs, then collapsed onto his bad, arm resting over his eyes. He must have dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was Dean leaving the bathroom with a towel around his waist to rummage through his duffel for clean clothes. The same as he always did. But today, Castiel couldn't take his eyes off his friend, tracking every drop of water that rolled down his stomach, wanting to follow the trails with his tongue. No, not wanting to. Castiel already determined that he didn't think he wanted to. He absolutely _had_ to. His brain wouldn't stop until he fed the damned beast. Cas groaned and sat up enough to prop himself up on his elbows, eyes never leaving Dean. He could feel himself growing to attention.

Dean met his eyes and smiled, "Hey sleepy head, I got... us some... food..." His words trailed off as he took in the state of Castiel, half naked and obviously aroused, staring at him like he was a piece of meat. His eyes got a little wider and his grin changed to something more confused. He shrugged, then unzipped his bag to collect his clean clothes.

"Drop the towel." Shit, he really just said that didn't he? Well, no time like the present to ruin a friendship. His psyche was already on board, may as well let the rest of him follow suit.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Dean threw a smirk over his shoulder then continued rummaging through his duffel, clear he thought they were still playing their ongoing game, he wiggled his ass in Cas' direction. "I just might, you know. What'll you do then?"

"Come here and find out." Cas sat up and threw his legs over the bed, trying his hardest not to leap up and rush his best friend.

Dean laughed and sauntered over. "You got somethin to show me?"

Cas wasn't aware of doing anything, but when he blinked his eyes, he had Dean pressed against the wall, their bodies flush, lips centimeters apart. Dean had brought his hands up to Castiel's chest, like he was preparing to push him away if things went too far, but Castiel didn't let that deter him. Dean may have had an inch or two on him in height, but Cas was superior in strength. He grabbed Dean by the wrists and slammed them against the wall, the sudden motion enough to cause Dean's towel to slide off his hips and down to the floor. Cas pressed his lips against Dean's ear.

"I've been dreaming about you every night. You taking me apart, making come undone. Even when I'm awake I can feel you slipping inside of me. But not this time, Dean. This time I'm fucking you."

Dean took a shuddering breath, his lips worked open and closed several times before a soft and pathetic, "Cas?" was uttered.

Cas gripped Dean by his hair and spun him around to throw him down on the bed, ridding himself of his boxer briefs before Dean even stopped bouncing. Then he was on top of Dean, shoving his thighs between the other man's legs, phallus entering his tight heat with out any ado. A look of pure terror on Dean's face halted Castiel in his tracks for a moment of blind panic, but then the look was gone as quickly as it came. Dean threw his head back and laughed, menace oozing from every one of his pores. Then black eyes blinked up at him from his friends face.

"Atta boy, Cas." The smile Dean gave Castiel was horrible.

Cas sat bolt upright. "Fuuuuck!"

Dean turned his eyes up to Cas, momentarily pausing his movie. Or porn, rather, by the sound of it. "Good dream?" Dean's eyes roamed down Cas' body to where he was tenting his boxer briefs.

Cas flopped back down as dramatically as he could and covered his face with his arm, not even giving a shit about the manly display he was offering downstairs. "No."

 


	4. Did that just happen?

Three more weeks had passed and no one had any clues as to the identity of the killers yet. The one possible suspect, Chuck Shurley, had been found walking naked through the UBC botanical gardens in Vancouver claiming he had found Eden. That same day, Bobby and Rufus had another body turn up in Mexicali, eliminating Shurely as the suspect for that particular scene. However, they were sending a team up to Canada to question the man and determine how his DNA had come to be at one of the crime scenes two months prior.

The woman who's body was found in a Catholic Mexicali church had been dressed up like the Madonna. Her hands bound together with fishing wire in a mockery of a prayer, eyes gouged so she wept tears of blood. She was garbed in blue woolen robes that were hitched up her legs and had been posed to look as if she were giving birth to a two headed calf, its heads and front hooves being pushed from her vaginal canal. The medical examiner had determined that the calf had been surgically inserted post mortem and that the cause of death was asphyxiation. She had it a lot easier than many of the other vics who had been dissected or dismembered while still alive. It was apparent that whoever did this to her wanted her body to be intact for the full effect of the scene. Agents investigating had determined that the calf was stolen off a nearby farm. Like most creatures born with Polycephaly, the calf had died within a week of birth due to complications and had made the local news, making it an easy corpse for the killer to collect. The farmer had been almost immediately cleared of all suspicion.  

 _"The squalling babe hath hit the Earth, and the name shall not be Jesus, but Aamon."_ The Enochian was scrawled in blood across the altar along with additional unknown symbols. There were theories on what the other symbols represented, but they were not a language recorded in history. Perhaps they represented ideas akin to the pentangle or the alchemical symbol for sulphur, a creation of the sick mind(s) behind the murders. Ancient language and symbology experts had been contacted and were currently doing research, though progress was slow going. Castiel attempted a bit of research on his own, but all he had at his disposal was Google, so it was less fruitful than he'd have liked. His current running theory that, like the rest of the imagery depicted in the tableaus, the symbols themselves were intended to be a mockery of the angelic script. It was the way of demons throughout every Judeo-Christian belief, so why wouldn't the unknown script be a parody of the language of Adam, some unknown demonic language, perhaps contrived by the killer(s) themselves? Cas posited his theory to Bobby, who had passed it along to the language scholars. No one had gotten back to Cas yet regarding his ideas. 

Dean had been arranging a time to meet with his brother, Sam, who was on his last few weeks of summer break from law school. Sam decided to spend the time in Tucson so he could be close to his brother for a much needed reunion. It had been over a year since they had an opportunity to see each other. Dean left three days ago to meet Sam, assuring Cas that he would haul ass back down to Nogales should anything "sick hit the fan." Tucson was only a few hours drive, so Cas was more than happy to let Dean drive back into the US to get some down time with Sam. It meant a bit of respite for Cas.

His dreams were becoming more vivid and disturbing as the days went by and on a couple occasions was starting to doubt which things had actually occurred and what he had imagined. Was this some sort of late presenting schizophrenia? It usually became apparent in a persons late teens to early twenties, and Cas was 35. And he also knew something was off, and wasn't one of the main symptoms of schizophrenia not knowing you were deluded? Self diagnosing was a bitch and highly discouraged, not to mention any psych training he received was through the marshals service, and that was on how to properly read and interact with both criminals and victims. His knowledge was decidedly lacking on the abnormal psychology front. And so Cas made an appointment to see a local shrink for next Thursday. He was nervous, but knew that he really needed to get to the bottom of this whole thing. 

Castiel wasn't expecting Dean back for a whole other week, so we was quite surprised when the door to their motel was opened and in he stepped.

"Heya, Cas." Dean smiled at him with a sparkle in his green eyes.

"What are you doing back already?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "My stupid brother has been trying to propose to his girlfriend for months now. I finally talked him into growing a pair and sent him packing back to Palo Alto."

He shrugged and threw his duffel on the floor next to his bed and kicked off his boots. "He'll be back to spend a few more days down here before the semester starts, so I wasn't too bummed not to get the whole time with him. And hopefully next I see him, he'll be an engaged man." Dean grinned widely with pride for his baby brother as he toed open the mini fridge, then bent to grab a beer. "Cerveza?"

Cas inclined his head and accepted the drink. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Well, probably. He hasn't popped the question yet. But I'm betting it's gonna go down real smooth."

They clinked bottles, "To Sam."

They drank in companionable silence for a while, Castiel relishing the time, as his mind was, for a change, blissfully clear of unwanted visions. It was a burden lifted to be able to spend time with Dean as the best friend he truly was, even if it was only a fleeting moment. The silence didn't last long. Dean cleared his throat and shifted, suddenly looking a bit awkward.

"I guess I'm glad I'm back already... I, well. Getting hitched to Jess wasn't the only thing me and Sammy talked about. He also convinced me to come back and get some stuff off my chest. With you..." Dean started peeling the label off his beer bottle and avoided looking Castiel in his eyes.

Shit, Cas knew he had been behaving differently. He had hoped he had been able to hide that he was going through this mental break from Dean, wanted to avoid making things difficult between them. He really didn't want to lose Dean, but if Cas had crossed a line, he would understand it if Dean wanted to take some time apart, maybe switch assignments with Ash or Jo. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable.

"What is it, Dean?" Cas tried to make his voice as soft and understanding as possible.

Dean looked up at him then, uncertainty and a touch of fear in his eyes. "Maybe it's because we've been sharing a room for the last couple months, or, I don't know... something else. But... sometimes I think this thing between us is actually more than what it seems. Not always. Sometimes... a-and sometimes... you, um, shit." Dean let out an exasperated huff and took a long pull of his beer.

Here it was all about to come out. Dean was going to tell Cas he had crossed a line and that he was no longer comfortable maintaining their current dynamic. Things were about to change, but it was probably for the best. Cas lowered his eyes, a sudden sadness washing over him. Before he could speak to tell Dean he understood, the other man started up his dialogue again.

"At least, I feel like it's more. And maybe i'm misreading the way you've been looking at me lately, but. Shit, Cas! You have no idea how badly I've just wanted to grab you and kiss you. Not pretending like we always do, b-but actually do it. Fuck, what am I doing?" He got up and grabbed another bottle of beer, turning his back to Cas, head hung solemnly to the ground. "I probably just fucked everything up, I shouldn't have said anything." He halfway turned and gazed at Cas over his shoulder. 

Cas eyes snapped up. He surreptitiously pinched his leg to make sure this wasn't a hallucination. Ouch! A little too real. Demon Dean wouldn't have opened up like this with him, anyway. When he spoke it was usually something abstract, or trying to convince him to clip his wings and Fall. Cas stared at him blankly for a full minute, Dean shifting nervously, when Castiel suddenly barked out a laugh. And then kept laughing til his side ached, like Dean had just told the most hilarious joke and he might die from the laughter. At first Dean looked taken aback and quite hurt, then hesitantly joined in, eventually laughing with as much gusto as Cas.

"God, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry Cas! Just pretend like I didn't say anything, I really don't want anything to change." The laughter calmed down a bit, but Cas was still smiling.

"Dean, you are fucking clueless sometimes."

Dean shrugged and gave an embarrassed grin. "No harm, no foul?"

"No, what I meant by that is you should shut the fuck up and kiss me already." Cas lifted a challenging eyebrow at Dean, who suddenly had such a hopeful expression on his face that it stole Cas' breath away. If it weren't for the constant dreams and visions over the last month, Cas probably wouldn't have been prepared for this and likely would have shot Dean down without a second thought. But now, it seemed like he might be OK with something actually happening, given that he had been having sex with the man for some time now. At least in his mind. The initial discomfort Cas would have had to Dean's confession never came and he was almost eager to feel the flesh in a most real and solid way.

Cas stood and met Dean half way and then their lips were crashing together. He could taste the beer on Dean's tongue, not the smoke and sulphur he had come to associate as Dean's flavor. Well, hell. This was actually happening, wasn't it? In opposition with his hallucinations, everything he felt was clear and concise, no diminished sense of continuity. Everything was played out in real time, as events that actually took place in the present should. Dean's mouth was even softer than he had imagined it.

Cas backed Dean up til the backs of his knees hit the bed and they were both tumbling back, scrabbling at each others clothes. Dean hesitated as Cas tugged his jeans down and over his ankles.

"Cas?" 

He leaned forward to capture those lips in another soft kiss, "Yes, Dean?"

"So... I'm new to this. You know, with guys. I've never done this..."

"I have." That wasn't entirely true. Dean was the only man Cas had ever had sex with, and that wasn't even real. But they had been going at it so frequently that Cas felt like he had a lifetime of experience and knew exactly what to do to make this something incredible for Dean. 

"I'll take good care of you. I've got you, Dean."

 

 

 


	5. Translations are a bitch

Cas was correct in his assumption that his technique would be listed under the "highly skilled" category. The demon had truly taught him a thing or two and, in that instant, Cas was sincerely grateful. He had human Dean writhing and screaming under his ministrations for hours on end, both achieving multiple mind-blowing orgasms. They spent several days doing little else than rutting like teenage boys, both elated that this new aspect to their friendship was unfurling. Cas was extremely pleased that while this was going on, he stopped dreaming about the demon. Instead of hallucinations of black eyes, sulfur and demonic laughter, Cas was living in a dreamland of a different sort. This was pure bliss. He never would have thought that something like this with his best friend could have put him in one of the best moods he'd ever been in; and on the plus side, Dean seemed to feel the same. 

A few days into his newfound connection with Dean, Cas had received an email from the psychiatrist he was scheduled to see, stating she had a family emergency and was postponing all her appointments for several weeks. They gave him the option for either rescheduling a month down the road or making an appointment with one of her colleagues in Tucson. Cas opted for rescheduling. He felt mentally clearer than he had in months. He believed there must be a direct correlation of his recent mental state to a combination of stress from the job and a healthy libido he rarely gave way to. Plus he suspected it was partly his mind's way of coping with repressed homosexual tendencies. Not that he even remotely considered himself homosexual, or even bi, perhaps just Dean-sexual. It was something he was interested in discussing with her, finding his own situation to be a fascinating study.

His family had been unreasonably strict in their religious doctrine, trying to beat a sense of wrongness into Cas from an early age at the idea of two men (or two women, for that matter) sleeping together. An abomination, they called it. In fact, anything of a sexual nature before marriage was considered an affront to god and family. Cas was forced into the basement to self flagellate and seek revelation when his mother found out he had kissed his junior prom date goodnight. They were 16 and Cas felt it was a perfectly natural, perfectly human, thing to do. They liked each other so much, but were planning on waiting to have sex until marriage. Cas had tried to explain all this to his mother, but she wouldn't listen. She had ended up dragging him by the hair screaming about sin and wickedness, shoving him down to his knees in front of the crucifix nailed to the otherwise barren wall, then placed a flog in his hands. He was locked down there until his mother was happy with the amount of bruising and blood covering his back. It had taken til dawn. Unfortunately, she wouldn't allow him back to school until he formally agreed to break things off with the "wicked temptress whore". And so he did. He didn't want to spend any more nights in the basement, alone with his thoughts and self inflicted wounds, with the pained eyes of Jesus in the midst of his Passion, silently judging him, the only company he was allowed. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he had been caught kissing another boy. At least what he had done with Bethany was "natural".

As a result of his upbringing, he had never really thought twice about his own sexuality, it was just man/woman, end of story. Wait til marriage for sex, and only for reproductive purposes, end of story. Pleasure in and of itself was wicked, given to us by Satan to tempt us away from the lord. Despite that, his family never did turn him into a homophobe or pleasure hating self flagellater (at least not once he was safely out of the house). Perhaps he was just rebellious, but he truly believed that if two people found love and happiness (something his parents never had, by the way) that it couldn't be seen as wrong in the eyes of God. He wouldn't have allowed free will if something as pure as true love could be corrupted simply by the shape of one's genitals. Cas giggled at the thought that it might be beneficial to call Chuck Shurley and ask him his thoughts in the topic. He _was_ God, after all. 

Cas posited that his upbringing was partly to blame for sending a demon to his mind, to corrupt him into sinfulness. Though he no longer believed it a sin, those were still thoughts that were drilled into his subconscious, his attraction to Dean and the nature of the occult murders, bringing all those repressed feelings out to the forefront. Yep, definitely an interesting study.

 ---

They were hitting some brick walls in the case. Chuck Shurley was no longer listed as a suspect. Apparently, God had been moonlighting as a struggling writer named Carver Edlund. Several months ago he had sold his seminal fluids to a sperm bank in San Diego under his pseudonym for some extra cash. Upon interrogation, management at the clinic had grudgingly admitted that several containers of "precious jiz" had gone missing (Dean's words). Three other DNA samples from the first few crime scenes were a match for the would-be surrogate fathers. Now the investigation was turning its focus on people who worked in, or had access to, the clinics cold storage, as no break-ins were reported.

For shits and giggles, Cas decided to order a few of Carver Edlund's books. The very worst case scenario, they'd provide a bit of entertainment while Cas and Dean waited on more leads for potential suspects, whether they were well written or not. Best case scenario, Chuck's writing could provide some insights into how a highly religious mind worked while in the throws of insanity. He may not have the same motivations as their killer, but they did have the crazy in common. It was a long shot, but worth it if something panned out. 

Dean was gone for a couple days, helping relocate a young woman in WITSEC who was to move to Tucson and assume a new identity there. When something like that popped up in their neck of the woods, they were always eager to hop on the new assignment. They played rock/paper/scissor to determine who got to go. Cas wasn't sure how, but he just knew Dean had cheated. And so Castiel was stuck waiting around Nogales for the next lead to pop up. In order to pass the time, and hopefully come up with something helpful to the case, he pulled out all the photographs of the unknown script from the crime scenes and started to study and look for patterns in the glyphs.

Hours slipped by as he continuously rearranged the symbols into different patterns, making notes when something looked like it fit. He wasn't sure how he would _actually_  know if it fit, but sometimes certain patterns just felt... right. Cas sprawled his work out on the floor, moving the symbol that resembled a hybrid B and R to the left of the one that looked like ancient Hebrew, a twisted figure eight with legs. The backwards C with a slash and umlauts went next in the series, then the 7 with a diagonal line through it. Cas worked in a trance, continuously moving pieces of the puzzle around until the very last symbol was in place. He tacked the pictures up on the wall, moving the TV and table out of the way so he could have the entirety of the wall to work with.  He took a step back to really study what he had done. Everything clicked into place. There were 30 words in total, demonic magic, the purpose of which was utter destruction.  He thought if he could figure out how to pronounce them in the original dialect, the world may truly end. Best not to say these things out loud when he figured it out. Because he _would_ figure it out.

"Nice work, Cas. You're so close." Cas looked over his shoulder at the demon, perched on the edge of the bed frame like a gargoyle. "What does it say?"

"It's a spell to break the first seal. And I think this bit at the end is meant to summon the four horsemen."

"True. Though your grammar and spelling is shit." Dean snapped his fingers and a few of the glyphs switched places with the others. "Now we're cookin with gas!"

"Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I need you, angel. We're soulmates."

Cas unfurled his wings to their full height in a display of aggression. "You're lying. Maybe Dean is, but not you." 

The demon scoffed. "Me. Dean. We're one in the same. Take a good look inside me, angel."

Castiel rushed forward, wrapping a powerful hand around the demon's throat, lifting the creature off his perch to slam him back against the bed. Cas' eyes glowed blue as he felt himself fill up with a long forgotten angelic grace. For a moment he felt like he was being swept away by an ocean tide, an albatross trapped within the eddy. Hot and cold filled him in waves of pure, heavenly brilliance. He stared down at the trembling demon and smiled.

"Cas?" The voice was timid and pathetic, and so very human. The demon's eyes faded from inky black and turned back to Dean's vibrant green. "Please. Don't hurt me."

Cas loosened his hold on Dean's throat and gently placed his other hand across his solar plexus, willing his grace to enter the man's body. He closed his eyes and really looked within. He immediately found Dean's soul, so bright and vibrant, the energy of a million suns beating into his mind at once. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. But there amongst the light were tendrils of darkness. Light and dark wrapped around each other in a sinuous, seductive dance, entrancing Castiel with it's rhythm and pulse. The darkness didn't diminish the light, it complimented it. Dean wouldn't be Dean without both aspects of himself, the demon truly was him, the darkness within.  _Embrace the Darkness, Cas._

"Yes. I will."

The demon's eyes turned black again as Castiel let his grace return to himself. This time when it smiled up at him, the menace was subdued by something else, something profound. Cas saw traces of love and affection overlaying the evil, and it made his heart happy. 

"Give us a kiss, angel."

 


	6. the mortal doth writhe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the extremely dubious consent warning for this chapter. There's a note at the end of the chapter if you'd rather read a summary.

Castiel didn't remember passing out. The demon had more stamina than he, so it wan't a shock that Cas had slipped into unconsciousness at some point. He was sprawled out on his bed, not having bothered to put on his boxer briefs, and scratched at himself lazily, a small, sleepy smile playing on his lips. Cas groped for his sheets in a half-assed attempt at covering his naked body, not that any modesty at this point would really matter, but it still felt more secure should he doze back into slumber. Which he did. Some time later, he awoke to the door opening, Dean having returned from his assignment in Tucson.

"Jesus, Cas! You still asleep?!" Dean moved to open the heavy curtains, letting the bright afternoon sun beat in through the windows.

Cas arched his back into a long stretch and groaned. "What time is it?" Cas blinked his eyes open at Dean and noticed the other man blanching as he took in the state of the motel room.

"What the hell happened in here? You go all "Beautiful Mind" on me, Cas?"

Castiel sat up, leaning back on his elbows, his leg falling off to the side and slipping out from beneath the sheets. "Mmmm, something like that. I need coffee..." Cas lifted the corner of the sheet to peak at himself briefly, huffing at his morning erection. "And a blow job. Care to help?"

Dean gaped at him, eyebrows slowly climbing to his hairline, then he puffed out a little laugh and a sly grin slid onto his face, "Sure thing, Cas. Rockin some impressive wood there, buddy." Dean toed off his boots and pulled his flannel and undershirt over his head, then threw the clothes onto his bed, winking over his shoulder at Cas. He shook his ass a bit, giving a little show for for his friend. "Coffee first."

They had long since stopped using the comp coffee and rundown auto drip, stale and barely worth the effort of brewing the shit. Cas hummed in appreciation at the way the muscles on Dean's back moved as he ground out the fresh beans and dumped them into the percolator. It took all of Castiel's self control not to get up and sink his teeth into that perfect flesh. 

Once Dean hit the brew switch, he turned around and started working open the button on his jeans, then slipped them off, along with his socks, to lay haphazardly on the floor. He teased his thumbs under the waste band of his boxers, letting them slip down his hips an extra inch, showing off the defined curve of the bone under his skin. "I'm gonna hit the shower while that's brewing. You better think about this fine ass while I'm in there." He turned again to collect his duffel where he had left it by the door.

Cas surged up out of the bed and was in front of Dean in the blink of an eye, pressing his naked body against Dean.

"Oh uh.. hey. Hey there, Cas." Wide eyed, Dean backed up a couple steps, colliding with the dining table that was usually pressed against the wall, causing a startled flinch. He laughed nervously and put halting hands up to Cas' chest as his friend followed his steps back, the table not allowing him to move further away. "W-what..."

Dean's words were cut off as Cas used his angelic strength to rip the man's boxers in two, causing them to pool down around one ankle, then in one swift motion, had Dean by his knees, throwing his back flat against the table with a startled yelp, inserting himself firmly between those muscular thighs. "No more teasing, Dean. I need to be inside you right now." 

Dean's eyes widened even further, his lips working like he was trying to say something, but no sound came out. He was giving Cas a full on deer in the headlights look, trembling slightly. Why Dean was looking so nervous and confused was beyond Castiel's comprehension at the moment, but his friend lifted a shaky hand up to Cas's chest and slightly nodded his head, giving Cas all the consent he could wait for. And so Cas lubed himself up and took his best friend right there on the table, hard, fast and wild. No abandon, he let his wings expand to their full greatness, lending his grace to stave off his impending climax so he could savor this beautiful mortal below him, quivering and screaming his name.  They both came in a whirlwind of sensations, Cas finally collapsing down onto Deans chest gasping for air and Dean taking in swift little panting breaths. 

Then Cas felt Dean stiffen up beneath him, is breath coming faster and panicked. "Shit shit shit shit. Up. U-up Cas. Get off me. Get off me!" He started shoving at Cas' chest and writhing under him to get free.

Cas scrabbled back as fast as he could to give Dean some air. "What's the matter? What happened?"

Dean lay there, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment, getting his breathing under control. Cas used his angelic hearing to listen to Dean's rapid heart beat slowly calm down to a steady thud, confused at his friend's sudden panic. They had been doing this for well over a week now, almost non stop. What had set Dean off like this? Then a sudden realization hit him, his stomach dropping in regret and trepidation. He had his wings out, displayed in full celestial majesty. He'd never shown them to his human before. It must have been quite terrifying and had no idea how he could explain it to Dean. So instead he said, "I'm sorry if I frightened you." Then dropped his eyes to the floor.

He heard Dean remove himself from the table and quietly enter the bathroom, closing (and locking) the door behind him, then flipping on the shower. After a few moments, Cas heard a small, stifled sob from the shower, sending sadness fluttering through him briefly. Dean was crying. Cas looked up at the door, staring for several minutes, eyes glowing a brilliant blue, then turned to face the wall full of glyphs, suppressing any guilt he had at scaring his friend. Dean was strong, he'd accept Cas as he was, and they'd both eventually be better for it. Cas had accepted the demon, after all. It was Dean's turn. He'd have to learn to love an angel. 

"He will, Cas." The demon stepped up behind him and wrapped comforting arms around his chest, nuzzling his face into his neck and purring into his ear, "He'll learn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives the barest of consent, and shortly after having sex with Cas has a panic attack.


	7. Babe I'm gonna leave you/ No quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole damn banana up to this point in Dean's POV. Hence the chapter title being Zeppelin songs. It's similar, but quite different.  
> (Lies. Was gonna do it all in one chapter, put this is getting too long for my brain to deal with. First half now, second half of Dean POV later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the extremely dubious consent tag. 
> 
> And also keep in mind: I'm drunk posting with no beta. oops.

Sometimes being a marshal was bullshit. Like right now. The case itself was interesting as shit, all religious murders and potential cultists and whatever. But man. The heat. The fucking Sonoran heat, record high temps, and Nogales was dryer than a nun's vagina during lent. On the plus side Dean got to hang with Cas while they waited on the Bureau to feed them more info to go on. Or for someone else to die. Not that he looked forward to that, but hey, let's be honest, at least another murder would give him something productive to do on the case.

God, there was a lot of down time this week. So Dean was on another beer run. He should probably stock up more, but getting out of the motel by himself now and then was a good enough excuse to only buy enough for a day at a time. When he was around Cas, he had a helluva time keeping his mind out of the gutter. They had been best friends going on ten years now, but Dean had realized only a few years into the friendship that he really had a thing for the guy. It started out with friendly flirting, but Dean soon found himself picturing doing the things they joked around about. Slipping his hand inside Cas' boxers, bending him over the table in the break room at the office. He'd go slow at first, then steadily pick up speed until he'd have Cas yelling so loud he'd have to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep their co-workers from hearing... Jesus Christ. Focus, asshole! Choosing the beer selection for the day was an important task. If he failed at this, he failed at life. I mean seriously, how long did it take a guy to pick out a refreshing beer for a hot day?Without looking, Dean picked up a cold case of Corona and paid the guy at the counter, only noticing his selection with a slight cringe as he slid the case into the back seat of his Impala. Not quite a failure, but certainly not a win. Corona tended to be a bit swampy for their tastes, but at least it was crisp and refreshing.

Their co-workers had a pool going on when the two of them would stop pussyfooting around and actually get it on. Cas had a seriously good laugh over that one, and suggested they give them a show. Their harmless flirting turned into a full on game of gay chicken, especially during off-the-clock social situations with fellow marshals. Dean had no idea when they started doing it 24-7, but it was making him go a bit batty. It was seriously hard holding himself back when all he wanted to do was lunge at the guy and take him hard against the wall. So he ended up banging pretty much any chick that would have him to get some of the pent up desire out of his system. Se la vie.

Dean finally made it back to the motel and took a moment to collect himself before he entered to present the beer with a flourish. Ta da! Dean smiled wide as Cas grimaced up at him, closing his laptop.

"Of course you got us bong water." Cas held out his hand, regardless.

Dean quickly opened the case and tossed one over to Cas. They popped the caps, clinked bottles, then chugged the cold beer down. Yep. Swampy, but still refreshing. Dean fished a couple more out of the case, then went to put the rest of them in the mini fridge.

"So, what's the plan? Any more news on the latest vic?"

Cas shook his head. "Nothing since this morning. Lita Piper, 23, from Ypsilanti. The tox came back positive for the same sedatives as the other vics. But still no word about the origins of the DNA found at the scenes. I just filed a request for priority, though I suspect someone at the FBI has already gotten that info and has just chosen to keep us in the dark. Assheads. So, i guess it's just sit and wait til someone else dies so we can go catalog shit for those inept, suit wearing pricks."

Grumpy Cas was cute. Dean fought back the urge to walk over to him and tousle his hair. Instead he laughed. "Yeah, like the feds would actually let us be useful."

Goddammit, Cas. Stop pouting or that lip's gonna get nibbled on. Dean shook himself. "So, in the spirit of being useless, titty bar?"

Dean needed to get laid. And so did Cas. He was gonna be the best friggin wing man ever tonight.

\---

By the time the bar was closing, Dean could tell Cas was close to being black-out drunk. Despite that, his morals seemed to be in full effect. He turned down sex with a perfectly adequate hooker simply because she did drugs, the prude. Dean was almost about to take her behind the bar instead while Cas closed out their tab, when he spotted a woman with dark brown hair and big blue eyes. Definitely more his type these days. He paid her an extra $20 to fuck her up the ass, then screamed out Cas' name when he came. Nope, nothing weird about that.

Cas was already halfway back to the motel when Dean caught up with him, throwing his arm around his buddy's shoulder. Man, he smelled good. Better than whass-her-name.

"Cas, hv I tol ya yer awes'm." Hmmm, he was drunker than he thought.

Cas leveled an intense gaze right into Dean's eyes. His vision was a bit blurred, but Cas' eyes were sharp and clear, stealing a bit of his breath. And then there was an arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him in tight. Dean licked his lips and moved his face in a bit closer. If he kissed Cas right now, he bet his friend wouldn't remember in the morning. He felt a slight pang of guilt for considering taking advantage of him, but shit, he doubted a sober Cas would actually go for it, despite the nature of the game they played.

"Drunk... You." Cas scrunched his face up in a very drunk-concerned manner. "Ssssex good, K?"

And Dean giggled like a damned girl. But Cas shook him and repeated, "K?"

"Nah. Ths shit gets boring, ya know? Le's do somethin fun." Dean took his arm away from Cas' shoulder and slid it down his back, letting his hand rest in the dip of his back, just above that seriously fine ass. Bounce a quarter off that? Yes, please.

When they arrived back at the room, Dean may have purposefully jostled Cas a bit, so they had to grab each other not to fall. Oops. And if his hand accidentally brushed against Cas' groin in the process, that was totally the fault of poor coordination due to the beer, right? Dean leaned down to the mini fridge and grabbed a couple beers, showing off what was beneath his tight jeans in the hopes of catching Cas looking, which, he totally was. Ha! Win.

"Oh, no. How are we gonna wake up?" Cas grabbed the beer from Dean and slammed the lip of the bottle against the corner of the dresser, sending the cap flying, a wild and amazed grin on his face as he chugged down the contents.

"Yer a goddamn superhero. You c'n do anythin, ya know?" Dean always had admired Cas a bit, but he was in full on drunk idolization mode right now. He chugged down part of his own beer, then pushed Cas so he was sitting on the bed, Dean claiming a spot next to him, thigh to thigh. "Yer like, kinda perfect. Piss'z me off sometimes, cuz I'mnot. I wanna look at yer body, is so nice."

They drank a few more beers in silence, Dean biting his lip and working up the courage to actually make a legit move, his hand resting on Cas' thigh, but nothing more. And then Dean's reservations were suddenly gone. He chugged the last of his beer, then stood up and spun on Cas. "Take off yer clothes. Le's get comfterb'l." Dean shrugged and gave his prettiest lopsided grin.

The other man just smirked at him with drunk, glassy eyes. "Do it for me." OK. No problem. Whatever you say, ace. Dean took all of 30 seconds to have Cas' shirt ripped off his body and pushed him flat against the bed to drag his dress slacks down his legs and into a rumpled pile on the floor. Dean unceremoniously fell on top of him, immediately licking across Cas' neck and down his chest, pausing to lavish attention on a small pink nipple. Cas tasted amazing. Like sweat and summer rain and everything perfect Dean's drunk brain couldn't come up with.

Cas laughed. "Tickles, Dean. Mmmmmm" Shit, if he knew Cas would let him do this, he would have tried years ago. Dean grinned as he kissed his way way down Cas' body, the other man huffing out small laughs around panting moans. He found his way down to the waistband of Cas' boxer briefs, using his teeth to playfully tug the fabric down slightly, exposing more of his shapely hip bone.

"God, I've wanted to do this for ages, Cas." Dean breathed heavily against his friend's half hard dick, still covered by the fabric of his briefs, and planted a series of soft kisses to the head and shaft, humming gentle vibrations. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of cheap soap and sweet musk that was purely Cas. Dean laughed to himself. Sniffing another dudes crotch like some damned dog in heat. Lame!

Dean was about to pull Cas free of his underwear, but then faltered. Cas had become quiet. He was no longer responding to Dean's touch, breathing the deep breath of drunken slumber. He crawled back up Cas' to put their faces close together, gently tapping at his cheek. "Hey, buddy. Wake up. I been wanting to do this for ages, don't go to sleep on me now." He slapped lightly at his cheek again. "C'mon, Cas."

Cas opened one eye and grunted at him. "I'm 'wake, Dea."

"Good, stay with me." Dean whispered, his lips on the verge of kissing, breathing the same air as Cas as he ground their erections together. He had Cas moaning again in short order. But it didn't last long, as Cas was fast asleep within minutes. Shit. Dean sighed and slid off to the side, keeping one leg between Cas' thighs and using his chest and armpit as a pillow. Resigned to sleep and knowing this was probably not going to ever really happen, Dean closed his eyes. He felt Cas' arms wrap around him as he drifted off into slumber.

\---

Waking up the next morning was awkward. Dean felt like a giant back of dicks, regret and guilt playing heavy on his conscious. He had practically molested his best friend in his sleep. He knew Cas wouldn't really care, would probably have a solid laugh if Dean told the story in just the right way. But his guilt tripled suddenly when he realized he had grabbed hold of Cas' dick in his sleep, still half hard in his hand, his own wood jabbing into the side of Cas' hip. He couldn't help but give a little squeeze and a tug before he let go, eliciting a soft sleepy moan from his friend. God fucking dammit. What the hell was wrong with him?

Dean untangled himself and headed straight to the shower to cool himself off. God, he was such an idiot. What the hell was he thinking? Groping all over Cas when the man was obviously blacked out and half asleep. Dean felt horrible. Cas was as straight laced as they came, a heavy emphasis on the straight, despite their constant game. maybe Cas wouldn't laugh this off? What if he got pissed off and didn't want to be friends anymore? Shit, mother fucking shit. Stop overthinking. You were drunk, he was drunk. End of story.

Dean considered maybe coming clean with Cas, get how he felt about the guy off his chest finally. Cas was awesome, open, and... just awesome. Even if he couldn't reciprocate, there was no way in hell he'd ever shun Dean for the attraction. But what if it changed stuff between them? They had a dynamic that was completely irreplaceable, he'd never find that with another living soul. If things changed, Dean would be crushed. But maybe it was worth the risk? No. Soon, but not now. Man, he was a chicken shit.

Dean emerged from the shower, towel haphazardly draped around his waist, water still dripping down his body as he crossed the bedroom and headed towards his duffel. He noticed Cas peaking at him behind hands covering his face. Play it cool, you bitch.

"Cas, you look like shit!" Dean laughed as he rummaged through his bag for clean clothes, pulling out jeans and a black t-shirt. Yesterday's flannel would do.

"Weird dreams. I need a cold shower... Wait, since when do you make your bed in the morning?"

Dean flushed as he fished out a rolled pair of socks and his toothbrush from his bag.

"Well, eh, I guess I don't. I didn't. I mean, I didn't sleep there." Dean bit his lip and held his breath, hoping Cas wouldn't be too pissed that he passed out in his bed again.

Dean could hear Cas groan behind his hands. "No more gay chicken when we're drunk."

Dean's heart sank.

\---

He decided to slip away for a couple days. Let Cas sleep off his hangover and Dean could have the time to get over his guilt and whatever this disappointed feeling was. He should learn to keep his damned gropey hands to himself. Cas didn't actually want him, it was all just a game they played to get folks riled up, let someone win a massive office pool if they ever decided to kiss. Whatever. Dean was a big boy and women fucking loved him. And getting some fucking love was what he aimed to do.

It didn't take long til he found some random what's-her-name to while away the hours with. She took him home, they banged (a lot), then Dean finally passed out, disinterested and already forgetting the encounter. She wasn't Cas and he felt a vague sense of resentment towards her for it. He was so royally fucked. It wasn't her fault she wasn't what he needed, but he still felt sad and gross as he fell asleep in her bed, wishing there was something he could do to feel right.

And then the call came at 5 til 5 in the goddamn morning.

"Bobby, your'e a real cocksucker, you know that? Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way. Text me the coordinates."

The crime scene turned out to be not too far away from his current location, so he took his sweet time getting showered and dressed and into his car. Despite the slow start, he still got there first. Dread filled his gut as he heard Cas' truck rumbling up the dirt road, but then he heard the sweet sounds of Kashmir wafting through the air and couldn't help the shit eating grin that crept across his face as his friend approached and finally pulled up to park to Dean's immediate left.

Dean sauntered over to Castiel's truck and opened the drivers side door for him as he cut the ignition and held a hand out to him to help him down. "C'mon, princess." Cas gave his most adorable grumpy face that had Dean wishing he could just lean in and kiss the stupid motherfucker. But Dean just lifted his eyebrows and wiggled his fingers at him.

When Cas shoved the thermos of coffee roughly into his chest, then shouldered him out of the way, Dean couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt deep in his chest. But he put on a sparkling smile, regardless, and drank down the coffee with legitimate gratitude.

"Thanks Cas, you're a life saver."

"You been in yet?" The shack of a house had been roped off by the local policia, but it looked like no one had been there in hours. Hopefully the crime scene was still intact.

"Nope, only been here a couple of minutes. Was waiting for you."

Cas nodded, then dug out some Vick's from his travel bag, shoved a glob of it under his nose, then tossed the jar to Dean. "Good call." Man, Dean hoped this scene didn't stink too bad.

\---

Eh. Sick. The crime scene was fucking nuts. How Cas kept his shit together so calmly completely boggled Dean. He happily let Cas do all the up close and personal documentation while he wandered around taking notes with his pen and pad of paper. He also let Cas take the lead when talking with the PFM, his breakfast burrito not sitting so well after all the blood and gore. The solitary car ride back to Nogales couldn't come too soon, the whole time at the scene spent in a nauseated daze. A million fucking hours later, he was finally in his baby, cruising back to the motel.

Seriously, who the fuck were these people? Goats eyes and maggots and bleh, friggin sick. And the way that dude's back was flayed open to look like wings? Jesus.

Heh, not Jesus. Michael. At least, that's what Cas said. "Michael vanquishing Satan. Look at the artistic licence the killer took with the tableau... this is fascinating la la la..." Cas would know, being the art fag and all. And only he would find this sick shit "fascinating". Best friend or no, fuck fantasy aside, Cas was straight out weird sometimes. Shit, and there he went thinking about Cas again. No escape, asshole.

Dean popped in a Zeppelin cassette into the tape deck and cranked that shit up. No Quarter came on and he sang along, the sweet psychedelic tune getting him lost in the drive and the music, tuning Cas out of his brain completely. Of course, that is until D'yer Mak'er came on the rotation. He laughed as he reminded himself to get Cas to try and pronounce it. He had a running bet with himself that Cas would mangle the shit out of it, like most people. Dean sighed as he pulled up to the motel room. There was Cas in his head again.

Dean was glad that he got there first, taking the opportunity to stretch out with a beer and his thoughts for a moment. But the silece didn't last. Before long, the door opened and in walked Cas. Dean took a long swallow of his beer, licking a stray drop off his bottom lip. He noticed Cas' eyes lingering over his lips for a moment and he got a sudden flutter in his stomach.

"Heya, buddy." He didn't mean his words to sound so breathy or shaky, but shit that's what happened. Cas just squinted at him and cocked his head, looking completely unamused.

\---

The next several days sucked. I mean, they were awesome, just a lot of down time chillin and getting drunk with Cas. But it sucked real bad. They played cards, watched movies, went to the bar, picked up chicks (well, Dean did), and stayed drunk for several days on end.

Movie nights were the worst for Dean, as they laid there shoulder to shoulder, hands practically touching, legs grazing as one or the other shifted. Dean sometimes worked up the courage to place a hand on Cas' leg as the skinamax movie of the night droned on, but Cas would either ignore it, or give a platonic pat to his hand. Dean was miserable.

There was a bit of information on translations of the weird symbols at the crime scenes, at least. That was sort of interesting. "Move therefore and appear! Open the mysteries of your creation; Be friendly unto me For I am the same! The true worshiper of the highest and ineffable king of hell!" But what the figgin fuck does that even mean?

And then it was another morning with nothing much for them to do. Dean fished out a couple cans of Tecate from the mini fridge, tossing one over to his grumpy friend.

"It's 8am, Cas. Shotgun?"

"This is my life, isn't it?" Castiel grabbed the church key off the counter, Dean already holding one in his hand. They both punctured a hole in the side of the can, popped the top, then chugged merrily.

"Dean, I think this is what people refer to when they mention high functioning alcoholics."

"Nope, alcoholics go to meetings and rehab is for quitters, etcetera, etcetera. Anyway, there's nothing else to do."

"You know, I used to do lots of things before I met you. I just can't recall what they were. You've been a very bad influence, Dean."

And then, of course the conversation had to move towards Cas being tied up with ropes, leaving a very detailed, very naughty image in Dean's mind that he just couldn't shake. And then his lying whore ears thought they heard Cas say, "I want you to tie me up."

"Huh?" God, he really wanted to. He hoped his face wasn't too eager.

"What, you not up for it?" Cas winked and Dean's chest went thump. 

Dean barked a laugh. "For you? Always."

 


	8. Babe I'm gonna leave you/ No quarter Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other half of Dean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know the tag warnings by now. Dubious dubious dubious... Dean has some mega inner debates on WTF just happened.  
> I'll go over this sometime in the next couple days and edit out any blaringly obvious mistakes. Too tired to edit any more tonight and I want this posted, dammit.

"What the... what?"

Dean cupped a hand over his mouth and leaned in closer to look at the photographs Bobby had emailed them.

"Is that a goddamn two-headed cow? Looks real. Can't find any suturing or nothin'."

"Yes, Dean. They are uncommon, but not an entirely unheard of occurrence in nature." Dork.

Cas flipped through more of the images until he came upon some of the weird symbols. They had determined that most of it was Enochian, some ancient language spoken by angels and the first people. But this other random scribbling really had Cas in a fit. He was getting a little too into it in Dean's opinion. That's what those language scholar's were for.

"Let them academics deal with it, dude. That Kevin Tran kid knows how to translate everything into Cuniform. Someone'll figure it out from there."

Dean flopped back on the bed, bored out of his mind. "Heya, Cas? I'm gonna head to Tuscon in a bit. Sammy's gonna be there soon, so I should hit the road... Unless you wanna get drunk and fool around before I go?" Dean stretched, arching his back, revealing the skin of his abdomen and slid a hand up his shirt across his chest. He'd totally make Sam wait a few hours if Cas took him up on the offer.

But Cas barely spared him a glance. "Mmmm."

"Right. Take it that's my cue to leave." Dean sighed, then got up and threw a few things together in his duffel.

He was glad his brother was finally able to get down to Arizona for a while. This little trip was gonna be a much needed break from Cas. He was still too chicken shit to say anything, despite being around the guy 24-7, and the tension was getting out of hand. Dean doubted Cas really noticed any of his nerves, he was an ace at hiding shit. But he was getting damn sick of his stomach constantly fluttering. He'd be about to say something, then his belly would do a back flip and he'd back the fuck out. Over and over and over again. 

As he was about to head out the door, Dean turned, bravery suddenly running him over like a mack truck. "Cas? One thing before I go."

The man turned his head and peered up at him with a silent expression that gently said, "Yes, Dean? Anything for you." Stupid fucking blue eyeballs of doom. Nope.

Dean's  jaw worked for a few moments, making no sound. Then he huffed out a nervous laugh. "Nothin. Stay outa trouble, buddy. I'll see you in a couple weeks."

Then Dean retreated outside, leaning his back against the closed door, eyes squeezed tight and kicking himself mentally. Coward.

 ---

The drive was cathartic. Dean sped past the hundreds of vehicles waiting in line to pass through to the US border; it took him 10 minutes instead of 2 hours like the rest of those poor saps. He had a motherfucking badge. Express lane, bitches! Once he entered Nogales, Arizona, it was a quick 1 hour drive up to Tucson. He usually savored a longer drive to get his thoughts clear, but he was anxious to see his little brother after being apart for over a year.

He had pretty much raised the kid since their dad had gotten a job as a cross country truck driver, being 12 years old the first time pops took off for two weeks, throwing him a $50 and telling Dean, "I'm counting on you, son." Dean had hardly fucked it up once. His dad was so proud of him, and even more proud of Sammy for being such a good kid.

And now Sam was one of the smartest guys Dean knew. Yep, Stanford Law and a mega hot girlfriend, tons of friends, and some serious career potential ahead of him. Dean claimed all the bragging rights for that outcome; he was the awesomest big brother\dad in the world, after all. He even had a mug that said so.

Despite the short travel time, Dean felt a million times better as he pulled up to the truck stop they were meeting at. Sam was already there across the parking lot, leaning on a blue Prius, smiling at his phone. Fucking hippy bitch with his fancy car. Dean smiled. He pulled up next to his brother and hopped out.

"Jesus, Sammy. I let you outa my sight for two minutes and you forget how to get a damn hair cut." Dean gave Sam a big hug and smacked him on the back.

"Whatever, jerk." Sam smiled back at him.

"I'm starved, let's get some grub! You can tell me all about your boring drive while we wait."

 ---

The truck stop had mighty fine burgers and a mighty fine waitress. Blonde hair, big boobs, and brown eyes that sparkled with raw hunger. She winked and touched his arm and her laughter sounded like clear, tinkling bells. She was a serious knock-out. Dean flirted back in earnest, enjoying the attention, but when she left her number on the receipt, he stared down at it pensively. He supposed he could hold onto it as a last resort, but she wasn't really what he wanted. Was he actually finding solace like this, or was he just lying to himself that it helped? His face must have given some of his inner turmoil away, because Sam suddenly got all therapist on him.

"What's on your mind, Dean? You want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine."

"You're obviously not, but if you want to shut me out, then fine. Just remember, I'm an adult now, you don't have to pretend everything is OK in order to keep me happy. You aren't protecting me by keeping things to yourself."

Dean opened his mouth and gave Sam, "Please don't" eyes, then shrugged. "Let's get out of here, I could use a drink."

Sam threw him a patented bitch face (#34 to be precise), but acquiesced and slid out of the booth.

Dean completely ignored the wink their waitress threw his way as they exited the truck stop and made their way across the lot to their cars. Sam noticed and stored that info for later.

They decided to book a room first, dropped off their bags, then walked a few blocks down to a seedy little dive called The Illuminaughty. With a name like that, it didn't surprise either of the brothers that it turned out to be a strip joint. But hey, a bar within walking distance wasn't to be scoffed at, especially when it was still well over 100 degrees outside. And despite dismissing the awesomely hot, potential booty call from the waitress, Dean didn't mind having the option of banging someone else tonight. 

They were on their fifth round of beer, filling the space between them with idle chit chat when Sam started pressing him to open up again.

"C'mon, man. I know something's on your mind. Tell me about it."

"Nah, it's nothing. Just thinking about a friend of mine. He's kinda in a weird place right now."

"Yeah? What kind of weird?"

Dean shrugged, "I dunno if it's my place to say details, really. But, he's been in love with his best friend for a really long time now and doesn't know what to do about it."

"Has he tried talking to her? That would seem like a good place to start."

Dean chugged the rest of his beer and motioned to their half naked waitress for another round.

He laughed into his empty mug and shook his head. "Believe me, my friend has tried. But he always chickens out last minute. Anyway, there's nothin' to be done about it now. Let's drop it."

Sam gave him a knowing look, but graciously changed the subject.

"So, I've got a bit of news. Well, not really news yet, but hopefully it will be soon."

Sam fished a jewelry box out of his pocket and popped open the lid to show a simple, but elegant, diamond ring to Dean.

"I decided I'm gonna do it as soon as I get back to Cali."

"Bout friggin time you manned up, Sammy!" Dean couldn't help but put a shit eating grin on his face. He was damned proud of his little brother.

When the waitress dropped off another round of drinks, Dean immediately lifted his new glass for a toast.

"May you and Jess have a dozen 8 foot, gigantor babies. Mazel tov!"

Sam laughed and clinked glasses. "Cheers."

 ---

The rest of the week was spent drinking heavily and trading anecdotes about their dad and childhood, then stories about Dean's work with the marshals and Sam's adventures in law school. Dean probably mentioned Cas a bit more than he should have, but hell, the dude was his best friend for the better part of a decade, so it totally wouldn't seem weird if that's most of what Dean had to talk about, right? 

"...And then MC Hammer came on the radio, and I was like, Cas! It's Hammer time! He just looked at me straight in the face and deadpanned, 'Dean, I don't know what Hammer time is, let alone how it differs from regular time.' God, that dude cracks me up."

And if Sam noticed his eyes light up when he talked about his best friend, he politely didn't mention it. At least, not at first.

 ---

After a week and a half with Sam, Dean got a call from Bobby. Goddammit. If there was another crime scene while he was having Sammy time, he was gonna flip his lid.

"Heard you were in Tucson. Got a lady needs to be set up there, you up for it? She'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon." Not a crime scene, awesome!

"Whoa, you mean I actually get to do my job finally? Shit yeah, sign me up." 

Bobby gave him the relevant information, then hung up with an endearing, "Idjit."

"Yo, Sammy. Gotta take care of some work for a couple days. WITSEC stuff, so I can't really tell you any more than that."

"Yeah, cool... So, don't be pissed, but I was actually thinking about heading back early so I can talk to Jess. Pop the question, you know?"

Dean smiled big. "Goddamn, not pissed Sam. You go sweep that girl off her feet like a boss."

They had an early night spent in their motel, discussing how Sam should propose. Dean thought it would be awesome to do it like Rocky 2, "Uh, Adrian! I was wondering what do you think you're doing for the next 40 or 50 years? I was wondering if you wouldn't mind marrying me very much?" Sam said hell no to Rocky 2, the big _girl_. 

Then in the morning they had their complimentary continental breakfast, gave each other a big hug and said their farewells.

"Dean, before I leave, I just need you to hear something. The only way you're going to work through this thing with Cas is to be open with him. Try talking. If you're anywhere near as transparent around him as with me, then he already knows how you feel. And he hasn't left or shunned you yet. I don't think he will now."

Dean was gobsmacked, jaw working for a moment and eyes wide before he could speak. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the shit, Dean. Talk to him. And I'll see you in a couple weeks. Let me know how it goes."

At that, Sam got into his car and drove off to the far away land of Palo Alto, leaving Dean standing slack jawed and confused. 

 ___

The relocation only took a couple days, so Dean found himself driving back to Nogales two weeks earlier than planned. Sammy had promised to come back to Tucson for a few more days before the next semester started, so Dean wasn't too bummed about cutting their time short. He'd get a bit more Sam time before September. Cool.

And then before he knew it, Dean was back at the motel he shared with Cas, car idling outside the door at 2 in the afternoon. Was he really going to do this? Like, actually talk with words coming out of his mouth? _OK, stop being a pussy, you got this._ Dean took a deep breath, then got out of his car and slid his key card into the door, opening it into complete pitch darkness.

The light coming through the open door cast illumination across the bed Cas was sound asleep on. He was naked as the day he was born, bits barely covered up by the flimsy motel sheets. Dean had to shake himself. Be cool, act normal.

 

"Jesus, Cas! You still asleep?!" Dean moved to open the heavy curtains, letting the bright afternoon sun beat in through the windows.

Dean blanched as he took in his surroundings and barely heard Cas stretching out and asking what time it was. All the furniture was moved away from the walls and loose pages from their files were strewn about everywhere. Pictures of all the unknown symbols were tacked to the wall, surrounded by handwritten notes that looked like translations of prophecies. Dean breathed out heavily from his nose. The end is fucking nigh, huh?

"What the hell happened in here? You go all "Beautiful Mind" on me, Cas?"

Castiel sat up, leaning back on his elbows, his leg falling off to the side and slipping out from beneath the sheets. "Mmmm, something like that. I need coffee..." Cas lifted the corner of the sheet to peak at himself briefly, huffing at his morning erection. "And a blow job. Care to help?"

And then Dean swore he could hear the sound of a record scratch as the room fell silent. Dean gaped at him, a million thoughts going through his brain in just a few seconds. Hell yeah, I'll help! He should march over there, rip the sheet off and go right for it. Fuck words. Cas just offered him an out, he totally wouldn't seem out of line if he made to take Cas up on the offer. And if Cas didn't mean it, he'd stop him, and Dean could play it off like he just won that round of gay chicken. Easy. Ready, OK! But a little something else first see if Cas would respond.

Dean finally puffed out a little laugh and a sly grin slid onto his face, "Sure thing, Cas. Rockin some impressive wood there, buddy." Dean toed off his boots and pulled his flannel and undershirt over his head, then threw the clothes onto his bed, winking over his shoulder at Cas. He shook his ass a bit, giving a little show for for his friend. "Coffee first."

Dean went over to the percolator and tossed in some fresh ground coffee beans to brew. He casually peeked over his shoulder to see if Cas was watching him, and sure enough he was. So, Dean turned around and slid his pants off and kicked them aside along with his socks. He teased his thumbs under the waste band of his boxers, letting them slip down his hips an extra inch, showing off the defined curve of the bone under his skin. And then his courage faltered. 

"I'm gonna hit the shower while that's brewing. You better think about this fine ass while I'm in there." Shit, you fucking pussy! Dean turned towards the door where he left his duffel to collect some clean clothes. Before he could take two steps, Cas surged out of the bed and was moving his naked body into his personal space. Dean totally didn't let out an embarrassing yelp. "Oh uh.. hey. Hey there, Cas." 

He'd seen Cas naked plenty of times in the communal showers at the gym, but damn. No amount of fantasizing prepared him for the sight of Cas standing in front of him, inches away, his monster dong pointing right at him like an accusing finger. Dean didn't realize he had backed away until he smacked into the kitchen table that had been pushed into the center of the room.  _Idiot. Just grab him and kiss him. Stop acting like a scared little boy. This is what you've wanted for so long!_

"W-what..." Yep, real intelligent. He was going to say something equally as profound like, "Hi" or "Uhhhh," but anything his brain could think of to say was completely cut off when Cas grabbed hold of his boxers and ripped them clean in two like the goddamn Hulk. Then before he could react, Cas bent over, grabbed him behind both knees and flipped him straight onto his back, causing his breath to rush out of him in a startled yelp as he landed on top of the table. If his brain wasn't short circuited before, it certainly was now. And what the hell was up with all the yelping? He wasn't a friggin chihuahua. 

"No more teasing, Dean. I need to be inside you right now." Holy shit, fuck yes. But Dean couldn't speak. For some reason he was having one of those fight or flight responses, but only it was like he was a deer stuck in headlights, frozen in terror. Only he wasn't afraid, he wanted this. He didn't know what to do! So, Dean lifted a shaky hand up to Cas's chest, touching his smooth skin reverently, then slightly nodded his head, letting Cas know that he wanted him.

They way it happened wasn't what Dean was expecting. They had been so close the last decade, "A very profound bond," Cas had called it. Dean thought that if anything happened between them, that some of that care and affection would shine through, regardless of how rough or kinky they got. But not this. Cas was suddenly pinning him down and unceremoniously entering him, barely taking the time to lube up and work his way in. It hurt. And Dean was confused why Cas would hurt him, but let him continue on, because, despite the pain, it felt so right having Cas inside him, being with him like this. 

It was like he was possessed by some wild animal, tearing into Dean with such abandon it had him screaming out in pain. "Fuuuuuck! Caaaaaaas!" He never asked for it to stop, though. Didn't want it to stop. He wanted it go on forever, if this is what it meant to actually have Cas. But this is never _how_ he wanted it. He always pictured it being rough and passionate, leaving them both walking funny for days. This wasn't passion, there was no love here, this wasn't even rough. This was the ferociousness of a wild beast staking a claim and it scared the shit out of Dean. And regardless of the rising terror within himself, Dean urged Cas on with hands on his wildly thrusting hips, "Yeah, fuck me you beast!" until he shot out the most intense orgasm he'd ever felt in his life. All he could think of as Cas thrust hard a few more times, joining him in his bliss, was how much he fucking loved the man. And then Cas was collapsing on top of Dean, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his chest, mingling with Dean's own. 

God, Dean wanted to cry. He was stuck between feeling beyond elated (Cas fucking wanted him!) and helplessly depressed. Because, maybe Cas _didn't_ want him. Whoever this was on top of him was a monster wearing Cas' face. A goddamn meat suit. He felt tears welling up and panic started to grip him. "Shit shit shit shit. Up. U-up Cas. Get off me. Get off me!" He started shoving at Cas' chest and struggling to get free.

Cas slipped out of him and quickly backed off the table to give Dean some space, a sincere look of confused concern on his face. "What's the matter? What happened?" His voice was so gentle, not like how he was moments ago. Dean was even more confused now. He wanted gentle Cas. He wanted a hug.

Dean couldn't meet his eyes, though. Or answer. Instead he stared up at the ceiling and began counting the textured flecks, waiting for his heart rate and breathing to steady. He found shapes that looked like a squirrel and one that uncannily resembled Trump's toupee. A few minutes later, his breathing was back under control, but the tears still wanted to come.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you." Cas sounded so sad when he said it, Dean almost believed that he didn't mean to lose control like that, didn't mean to hurt him.

Dean didn't speak, but silently got himself up and limped slowly into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. As he turned on the shower and stepped over the lip of the tub, pain flared through his lower extremities making him cry out. The water hit his face and the tears finally came. _Why did you let this happen? You could have taken control and made it nice. Cas obviously doesn't love you, didn't even kiss you. Just threw you down and took you like a fucking prize. It was supposed to be nice! Not confusing and painful. Oh, shut up you little bitch, you know you liked it. True. So, so true. God, but it hurts. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Now we actually have to talk, and that's gonna be even worse. And what the fuck do I even say? Sorry Cas, I've wanted to do that for years, but your intensity is a bit terrifying and now I'm just gonna go over here and cry like a girl because it wasn't all sweet and playful and...shit. God, your'e not a goddamn virgin, stop acting like you were just bad touched by a creepy uncle. You're still in love with they guy. Talk shit out. You can do this!_

Dean finished soaping off his front, then gingerly reached back to his abused entrance, gently wiping away traces of blood and semen. Blood? Great. Did Dean really want Cas so bad that he would let this shit happen again? The answer was a resounding yes. If this is what it means to be with Cas, then he would take it gladly. Jesus, he really had no self respect did he? Maybe it didn't have to be like that again. The fact that they've had sex now was a place to start, they could work their way up to something more affectionate, put a kabash on any more physical harm. But the big question throbbing through Deans skull: Did Cas even love him? He could learn to love Dean, right?

 ---

Dean finally toweled off and stepped out of the bathroom, not entirely prepared to face Cas, but no longer wanting to put off the inevitable. As he opened the door, head down in shame, he heard Cas mumbling something about "The Righteous Man." Dean looked up and saw Cas scribbling a note next to one of the odd clusters of symbols tacked to the wall, still completely naked. Then the man turned his head and plastered a blue eyed gaze on him that tore open Dean's soul and Dean felt his breath coming quick again.

"I love you." That wasn't what he meant to say, but it's how his traitorous mouth decided to respond to that haunting gaze. Cas just smiled wide at him, then turned back to study the wall. Dean slipped out the front door to sit in his Impala for a while, still stuck with all the thoughts in his head. Eventually, he turned the ignition, Zeppelin immediately blaring to life through the speakers. "Babe I'm gonna leave you" came on and washed over Dean and he thought about driving off and disappearing for a while, but knew he wouldn't leave Cas. 

Dean slammed his hand several times against the steering wheel. "Fuuuuck!" What the hell was he gonna do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Hammer time is a quote from Dexter. Sounded awful Cas to me, so I used it. And also the inspiration for the religious tableaus came from that show as well.


	9. One righteous dude

The demon's arms held Cas close as it purred into his ear. "Tell me, Cas. What have you found?"

"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break."

Cas felt a sudden chill as the demon released his grasp and moved back. Cas turned his head, looking over his shoulder to inquire where it was going. But then Dean was standing there, hair clean and dripping, his t-shirt clinging to his damp body. Cas couldn't help but send out waves of fondness and longing towards his human. There was a righteous man if he had ever met one. The first seal of the apocalypse was staring right at him, Cas could feel the knowledge stirring within his bones. In his very essence, in his grace. The man looked like he had a million words on the tip of his tongue, but nothing was spoken. Until the softest words to ever escape those lips barely took wing, feebly flying into the open air.

"I love you."

He sounded small and afraid, but Cas couldn't help but feel elated. He was large and powerful and the trembling human was his.

The demon spoke directly to his mind, sending his thoughts from the dark shadows where he hid. "See? If I can love you, so can my mortal half."

Cas smiled wide, eyes sparkling at Dean, already wanting to take the man apart again, to throw him down on the bed and love him until the fire encompassed them both and they burned to ashes. Cas turned his face back to the prophecy on the wall, a sudden thought occurring to him. If they perished in that brimstone and Dean was trapped in Hell, did he want him to shed blood, or would he go there to save him from that fate? That was something Castiel had yet to decide. To break the first seal or not, that was the question.

The door quietly clicking behind him signaled Dean's departure. He probably shouldn't let him go wander off alone any more. It wasn't safe, especially if Dean was the prophesied righteous man as Cas suspected.

"Demon. Go with him and don't allow anyone else to touch him. He's mine, now."

Cas' eyes glowed with the blue fire of his grace at the command, his wings flaring out to their full majesty. The demon smiled from the shadows, black eyes sparkling as it stepped out to give Cas an open mouthed parting kiss, saliva tinged with sulfur.

"As you wish."

 ---

Dean was gone for a while, as was the demon, per his request. Cas was starting to feel like a real wack-a-doo, staring up at this damn murder wall of prophetic doom and gloom for days on end. So, he decided to tidy the place up a bit, moved the furniture back where it belonged, got all the loose files back into their proper envelopes, wanting to give his brain a bit of a break. Dean had only just gotten back from his WITSEC assignment in Tucson and Cas had already gone and scared him right back out the door with his intensity. When the hell did he let his work become so all devouring, anyway? He almost felt like a man possessed the last few days, hell, maybe even the last few weeks, but at that very moment, he felt oh so clear. Cas really hoped he was dreaming a lot of it, surely the demon wasn't really in the room with him? He knew he didn't have wings, right? Maybe a call to that shrink's colleague would be better than waiting another several weeks.

And he would definitely have to play it by ear with Dean. He still didn't know if he'd actually been fucking him, or if it was all still just that demon look-alike that constantly plagued his subconscious. Shit. He still really didn't know if he even wanted anything from Dean. He certainly did when he was in the throws of those dreams, or that (mania?) whatever he was feeling. But right at that moment, he was feeling how he did all those months ago before this case began. He loved his best friend, enjoyed the flirting and teasing between them, but never truly wanted to take anything farther than that. Things were perfect as they were, no need to go and change a good thing. God, Cas had no idea what he was doing. He was afraid he'd end up hurting Dean, breaking him beyond repair, and all because Cas was going insane.

Wait, it's not insanity if you know you're going insane, is it? Maybe his beer was spiked with a mega dose of LSD... that lasted 3 weeks. Or Ketamine? He had no idea what drugs did to the brain, at least not first hand, what the half-life of a "mega dose" of something like that would be, or how any of that worked. He was still a virgin to a lot of things. Something to posit to that shrink. Yeah, definitely making that appointment.

Once the room was cleaned up to his liking, Cas flipped open his laptop and looked through his emails. Notice of shipment on those books of Chuck Shirley's, they should be arriving tomorrow; There was also an announcement sent from Anselmo Valencia Tori Amphitheatre. Styx would be coming to Tucson in a month, Cas immediately bought tickets for Dean and himself. ( **So** not a date. They'd do shit like that all the time, didn't they?)

 As he was finishing up his purchase, another email from Kevin Tran pinged on his laptop with more of the Enochian translations. Finally. This one talked about the rise of the Antichrist, a straight quote from the book of Daniel. " _and there before me was a fourth beast—terrifying and frightening and very powerful. It had large iron teeth; it crushed and devoured its victims and trampled underfoot whatever was left."_

Those were the glyphs from the second murder, in which a man had been drawn by each limb, attached to 4 metal posts on the ground, then crushed to death by a car. Each post had two horns (belonging to a goat) attached with wire, and two more had been implanted within the man's skull. Atop the car was a severed goat's head with one single horn impaling it through the center. Written in in blood next to the head were the words, " _I speak boastful words_." It made sense that the Enochian had translated into a description of the Antichrist, as the car itself was an obvious interpretation of what Daniel spoke of in his book of prophecy. Cas could now reference the translated Enochian to the Demon script also from that scene and get a better sense of the literal meaning behind it.

Or he could do that later... Cas still wanted to take at least one day off from the craziness that the translating seemed to invoke in his brain. Sighing, he closed his laptop and hopped into the shower, enjoying the spray of cool water to his hot skin. He toweled off, threw on some clean boxers, then went to fetch a beer from the fridge. Empty. Shit. Cas picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Dean. "Get beer".

Two seconds later, he heard his own raspy voice from the other side of the door. " _Hey. Assbutt_!" Dean had recorded Cas one night several years back while they were both drunk. The following morning, Dean had replayed the recording and, laughing his ass off, used that little clip of the evening to create a special text-tone for Cas' number. Well, sounded like Dean was back. He wondered how long he had been outside, as Cas didn't hear the rumble of the Impala pull up. Probably while he was in the shower. " _Hey. Assbutt_!" Dean's phone again reminded him to look at his text. Cas could almost feel the other man sigh from the other side of the door. Moments later, Dean entered, arm wrapped around a cold case of Dos Equis, the bottles clinking delicately as he closed the door behind him and gingerly walked to the kitchenette to put the case down. Why was Dean walking funny?

"Good timing. We were completely out."

Dean silently shrugged, then handed a bottle over to Cas without really looking his way. Cas took a step to close the distance between them and removed the bottle from Dean's hand, letting his fingers brush over the other's, the contact lingering longer than necessary. At that, Dean finally looked over at him, sadness, fear, confusion, anger all flittering across his face like a collision of frantic, mating butterflies. To top it off, his eyes were rimmed with red, like he had been crying, though that is something Dean would never admit to. Damn, what the hell did Cas do? What should he do now? He couldn't let Dean stay mad at him, or sad or confused or, god forbid, afraid of him. This was his best friend in the world and he had to make things right.

"I'm so sorry." Cas didn't know specifically what he was apologizing for, but he knew he did something wrong. He didn't understand what was happening to him. He didn't understand the look on Dean's face, like a deer about to bolt at the sound of a snapping twig. Didn't understand how he had Dean backed against a wall, how his hands found themselves working their way inside his friend's pants, caressing the hardening skin beneath, or the breathy, "shit shit shit" Dean was whispering to himself as his head tipped back and banged against the wall, his body visibly trembling. Dean wasn't timid. Ever. Why was he now?

Cas certainly didn't understand it when he dropped to his knees, pulling Dean's jeans and boxers down as he went, then buried his face in his friend's groin, swallowing down his length as his hands reached around, leaving butterfly soft caresses to the skin on his lower back and ass.

"Holy shit, Cas..." 

But the thing Castiel understood the very least was when he eventually stood back up and pressed his lips against Dean's, whispering soft breath into his mouth.

"I need you".

He could feel love radiating off Dean in waves that made him dizzy, the world spinning as he pulled his friend back to collapse on the bed, Dean firmly planted between his thighs. And then it was game over. Dean took charge and Cas let him in hungrily, never wanting the physical sensations to stop. It was the most mind-blowing sex he'd ever had in his life. And by the look on Dean's face when they finished hours later, too tired to go another round, Cas could tell it was the same for him.

As they lay side by side, on the verge of sleep, Dean suddenly laughed.

"What's so funny, Dean"

"Jesus, I can't believe these words are about to leave my mouth... But, Cas? I think we need to talk."

 

 


End file.
